


Tales of Atlantis: The Switch

by KD writes (KDHeart), xyzmary2001



Series: Tales of Atlantis [6]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alcohol, Ancient Technology (Stargate), Body Swap, Crack, F/M, Gen, Technobabble, vicious lemons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-14
Updated: 2019-10-26
Packaged: 2020-10-18 11:07:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20638160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KDHeart/pseuds/KD%20writes, https://archiveofourown.org/users/xyzmary2001/pseuds/xyzmary2001
Summary: Ancient tech keeps fucking with them.





	1. Chapter 1

Nearly two months have passed since her first off-world mission in Pegasus and not a day went by without Catherine using every spare minute trying to work on her physical weaknesses. With the same stubborn determination she invested into everything she set her mind to, she didn’t spare herself any effort. She had started jogging around the piers twice a day until she was breathless; in the afternoons, she took shooting lessons from Lorne, followed by Teyla kicking her ass in the evenings.

The mp3 player Daniel had got her proved to be a great help. It kept her mind busy while she jogged, preventing it from drifting onto dangerous subjects.

This wasn’t her usual time for jogging, but she had decided to use whatever time available to her for training, so she was running to the gym, where Teyla was probably already waiting for her.

Sports have never been her strong suit, despite taking the military training required for active SGC members. She had spent her childhood and teenage years training her mind. She still considered this to be her priority and would never skip on a MENSA meeting for anything in the world, but her new surroundings demanded she be able to fend for herself.

Her off-world missions so far have proved real disasters on her part – she had found herself in constant danger and had endangered others on both occasions. She refused to be the damsel in distress every time. That meant she _had_ to be in top physical condition, no matter how much she despised working out.

She had also taken it upon herself to treat John’s wound personally, as a reminder of what happens if she has to rely on someone else to defend her. It was her penance. His constant teasing reminded her why she didn’t want him in the Infirmary in the first place.

Her mind wandered to their fight that very morning. She wasn’t entirely sure what it had been about, but she was almost sure he had started it. He always did.

Still trying to remember, her brain suddenly became aware of what Michael Bolton was singing about-

_How can we be lovers if we can’t be friends_

_How can we start over when the fighting never ends_

_Baby, how can we make love if we can’t make amends_

_Tell me how can we be lovers if we can’t be, can’t be friends_

“What the-?” she thought, as the second chorus finally sank into her mind. She didn’t need to listen to this. Not now. Not that it had anything to do with anything, but...

_We lie awake, this wall between us_

_We’re just not talking, we got so much to say_

_Let’s break these chains [...]_

Before the line could finish, she stopped running and changed the song. Not that she had anything against Michael Bolton, but it just seemed wrong. She listened to the first few lyrics of the next song.

_It was a rainy night when he came into sight_

_Standing by the road_

_no umbrella_

_no coat_

It sounded somewhat familiar, but it was safe enough, so she resumed her run. Soon enough, the chorus hit again.

_All I wanna do is make love to you_

_Say you will_

_You want me too_

_All I wanna do is make love to you_

“No, I don’t!” she snapped. Thankfully, there was no one around.

She decided to give the little device one more chance to redeem itself. With a deep breath, she pressed forward.

_The world was on fire, no-one could save me but you_

_It’s strange what desire will make foolish people do_

_I’d never dreamed that I’d meet somebody like you_

_And I’d never dreamed that I’d lose somebody like you _

_No, I don’t wanna fall in love_

“Of course I don’t!” she said, turning the player off and stuffing it in her pocket furiously.

“Who the hell would even consider I could fall in love with-”

It was bad enough it wasn’t Rodney she was about to put in that sentence. If she wanted to use the damned thing again, she needed to refresh the playlist once she got back to her room. Whatever possessed Daniel to fill it with music she used to listen to when she was a teenager?

To chase away the uncomfortable thoughts that were assaulting her, Catherine tried focusing on an Anatomy course she had taken back in high school, long before she had known much about the human body. It had been the most boring hour of her thirteen years of life that far, but it was the reason she was of use to anyone now.

Fortunately, she was just around the corner from the gym and she needn’t subject herself to more torture than she already had. She suspected she had managed to kill off a few functional neurons just getting there.

As expected, Teyla was already there, waiting for her.

The woman welcomed her with an Athosian greeting that Catherine had learned to answer.

“You are late.”

“Yes, I ran into some... technical difficulties,” she explained, deciding never to think of the playlist incident ever again. “Sorry for keeping you waiting.”

She dropped her bag on the floor, picked up two fighting staves and walked to the center of the room, where she took the fighting stance Teyla had spent the past four sessions teaching her. By the look on the Athosian’s face, Catherine could tell that she had finally gotten it right and felt ridiculously pleased with herself.

o0o0o

“We’ll work on defense for now,” Teyla said, knowing it will probably take them months before she could teach the woman to attack without hurting herself. So far, the only fruit of her work lay in a correct fighting stance and getting her not to hit herself over the head with her own stave when she parried. “All you have to do is block, understand?”

Catherine nodded.

“I’ll go slowly, and when I come within reach, you either duck out of the way or block me with your stave,” she explained for the Nth time. She knew the doctor understood the principle; she was just very uncoordinated and extremely impetuous. Much like Col. Sheppard, she put all her energy into the fight from the start, exhausting herself pretty fast and eventually losing focus.

But that was where their similarities ended. Not only had he a real aptitude for the fighting style, but he was also in better shape than the doctor. He was faster, stronger, and more experienced, which meant it took her more than ten minutes to put him down.

They began.

Teyla was moving slowly, with immense care not to let her blows hit too hard.

Catherine managed to duck out of the way of the first two hits, blocked a third and managed to trip over her left foot before the fourth was even aimed.

She was terrible, Teyla thought, but at least she was trying to do something about it. She helped her to her feet and gave her a second before putting her back on her guard and starting over.

She was improving – she managed to block two blows, dodge another two and almost land one of her own before dropping one of her fighting staves.

“Sorry. It slipped,” she said, reaching for it.

“It’s all right.”

It would take time for her to get better, but Teyla was both patient and calm, two traits she had found particularly useful when facing off against Terrans. And she couldn’t help but admire Dr. Spencer’s resolve. Not only did she listen to her, but she also tried to understand and apply her advice, even when she looked too exhausted to move.

It also gave them a chance to get to know each other better, which was always a plus.

o0o0o

As she returned to vertical, her stave recovered, Catherine’s eyes found themselves locked on the overconfident smile plastered on John’s face. The man was standing in the doorway with a gym bag on his shoulder and his left arm still in a sling. Before she could turn all flustered, the medic inside her reacted first.

“What are _you_ doing here? You’re still not allowed to train.” She frowned, suddenly remembering what the fight had been about. “I thought I was clear enough this morning.”

“You’re doing it,” he pointed out innocently.

“What does that have to do with anything? _I_ haven’t been shot recently.” The conversation was giving her a feeling of déjà vu; didn’t they already have this talk that morning?

“With one hand literally tied behind my back – well, to my chest, but same difference – I still need less training than you.” He glanced over at the Athosian. “Teyla,” he greeted.

“John,” she said with a smile.

He turned to face her again and dropped his bag on the floor.

“I promise I’ll only train my left, happy?”

“You’ll probably go ahead with it even if I wasn’t.”

He flashed a smug grin, looking like a teenager.

“Of course. But I’d rather you were.”

That didn’t even deserve a comeback. With a carefully guarded look, she turned back to her opponent and, forgetting Teyla’s instructions, decided to charge.

Taken by surprise, Teyla parried, knocking Catherine to the ground with one hit.

“I have told you we need to work on defense first!” the Athosian snapped.

Maybe she was reading too much into it, but Teyla seemed uneasy and tense, as if she wished to be anywhere but there. As if John’s presence made her uncomfortable.

Were they really in a relationship? There were plenty of fics speculating on it.

The sudden pang of loss was almost physical. It filled her with anger at herself.

Who John slept with - or didn’t sleep with - wasn’t her business. She had told him that much back on P3X 32Z but, apparently, it wasn’t him who needed convincing.

Mentally slapping herself, Catherine reached down to retrieve her stick.

“Let me handle the good doctor this evening,” she heard him saying.

_Seriously?!_

She arched an eyebrow at him and was rewarded with an annoyingly charming smile that made her stupid heart skip.

“Are you sure about this?” Teyla asked.

“Look at me!” He pointed to the bandaged shoulder. “I’m already incapacitated. How much of a fight can I put up?”

Catherine gave Teyla a questioning look.

“You can’t seriously consider-”

“In fact, sparring someone with a different fighting style might help you,” she assured her, already gathering her belongings.

Cocking a thumb at the Athosian, John added, “What she said.”

Catherine could see that there was no easy way out of this, and to make things much, much worse, she felt that at least some part of her was eager to spar with him.

“I’ll leave you to it then,” Teyla said with a strangely relieved smile, heading towards the door.

John kept his eyes on the Athosian until she left the room and then took a fighting stave out of his bag.

“Are you really going to fight me in the state you’re in?” she asked as he effortlessly slipped into a fighting stance. She knew he could probably beat her regardless of his physical condition. He had more practice and better skills and, well, let’s face it; anyone could probably beat her anyway.

“If you insist,” he said, flashing _that_ smile again.

Not really considering the consequences, she charged blindly.

She soon found herself disarmed and couldn’t even remember how she ended up sprawled on the floor.

And there it was, the first difference between him and Teyla. He wasn’t trying to teach her anything, just showing off his skills.

The smug bastard!

With a quick twist she hadn’t known she was capable of, she was crouching and, with a swift blow, hit him hard above the knee before realizing he had been offering her his hand to pick her up.

“A-AU! What was _that_ about?” he asked, cringing in pain.

Catherine could swear he had let her hit him on purpose, and yet she couldn’t stop the guilt from creeping in.

“I thought you’d block it!”

“Never saw it coming.”

“Do you expect me to believe that?”

She glanced at him, trying to decide whether he was pulling her leg, but his face gave nothing away.

“Why not? I’m not exactly at the top of my game.”

His tone was sincere, but his eyes were teasing.

“Then maybe I should’ve told you to stay away from the gym. Oh, wait. I did. You chose to ignore it.”

Making no effort to curb her irritation, she grabbed her bag and headed for the door. “I think I had enough for today.”

“You’re gonna leave me here like this?” John called, still clutching his leg. “What kind of doctor are you?”

“One that’s heading for the Infirmary,” she answered, waving her hand in front of the panel. The door opened. “Come see me if your knee swells up.” She heard and despised the tinge of guilt in her voice. “Or if your shoulder starts bleeding again.”

He put his leg down a bit gingerly and adjusted his stance to steady himself.

“Catherine, wait. We need to discuss what happened yesterday,” he said, his tone suddenly serious.

She knew she had it coming, she just didn’t expect it to be so soon. Not only was it late, but she was exhausted, sweaty, and more than a bit angry.

“Can it wait till tomorrow?” she tried.

“Promise it won’t be long.”

She heaved a deep sigh and put the bag down, letting the door close behind her. John hesitated for a moment, then crossed the room towards her, limping slightly. He stopped a few steps away from her and fixed her with a stern look.

“You nearly got yourself killed yesterday, Catherine. What were you trying to pull back there with the Wraith?”

She held his gaze without flinching. It wasn’t easy.

“I understand why you wanted me to run, John, but it felt too much like leaving you behind. I couldn’t do it.”

“Look, as long as we’re in the City, you can do whatever you like. I have no authority over you, and I don’t even want to. But in the field, I expect you to follow my orders!”

His voice was even, but the way he looked at her was enough to let her know how close he was to snapping. On the other hand, she had long since passed that stage.

“Is this about you trying to protect me, or are you just angry because I didn’t follow your order?” she asked, letting her anger creep into her voice.

“No, Catherine! This is about you second-guessing my decisions. We’re taking a chance every time we step through that Gate, and I’m fine with that, as long as you trust me do my job!”

“But I do trust you!” she protested. And she meant it. It was his penchant for self-sacrifice that gave her nightmares.

“You sure have a helluva way of showing it!” he snapped.

“I’ve put my life in your hands more times than I can count!”

“Except when you didn’t! Catherine, you are a _civilian_ member of my team. Like it or not, _I am_ responsible for what happens to you.”

His words had a ring of truth to them, and that made their sting all the more painful. It was his condescending tone that riled her up even more.

“I can take responsibility for my own actions! I’m _well_ over 18, you know!”

“What you are is a healer, Catherine, not a fighter. You want to be more like Teyla - fight the bad guys, kill the Wraith, protect the rest of the team - but you can’t! The sooner you get that, the better!”

o0o0o

John wished he could take his words back as soon as they were out of his mouth. He hated pulling rank on her and wished there were another way to drill some sense into her, but if there was any to be found, he couldn’t find it. Catherine was the most vulnerable member of his team, with Rodney close on her heels - but at least _his_ survival instinct was intact. Hers seemed to be missing entirely.

Catherine recoiled as if he had slapped her and all the color drained from her face.

“I did it for a good reason,” she said, clenching her fists to the side.

He took a deep breath, trying to block the memory of her being thrown around like a ragdoll. They might have won in the end, but not before he had seen the Wraith’s claws digging into her flesh. And for a second he had thought... He didn’t even want to remember that feeling. Nor the feeding marks on her chest or her terrified look. He had never seen her seem so small, so fragile before. Not even during the quarantine.

He set his jaw and looked straight at her.

“Yeah, and what reason would that be?”

“Saving your life.”

“Mind sharing your plan with me?”

She remained silent.

“I’ve told you to run because I had better chances to kill him without you around. I admit, my aim wasn’t steady, nor accurate, but I could’ve taken him out if I weren’t afraid I’d shoot you instead,” he explained.

It was the truth, but not the whole truth. He had been exhausted, dizzy, and weak as a kitten. He would have fought for his life, all right, but the outcome of that fight would’ve been far less certain than he made it seem.

“There were only two scenarios in which your actions would have saved me. One - you would have killed the Wraith with a _pocket_ knife. Two – I would have run to save my life while it fed upon you. Which one did you consider?”

She opened her mouth to speak, but stopped herself before she did. A glance at her told him that his question got her thinking. He took it as a good sign.

Willing himself to calm down, he closed the distance between them.

“You weren’t saving my life, Catherine, you were buying me a few minutes to watch you die,” he said, softening the edge in his tone. “I couldn’t leave you behind any more than you could leave me. And if that Wraith would’ve started feeding before I stabbed him, we’d both be dead. There was no way I could’ve taken on a recently fed Wraith by myself. And the Wraith don’t just abandon a nice free buffet.”

Her eyes widened in understanding, and he had to fight the urge to pull her close and give her whatever comfort he could. It wasn’t her fault that strategic thinking wasn’t exactly her strong suit.

“Now, General O’Neill warned me you’re not known for unquestioning obedience,” he forced himself to continue, “but I took my chances with you, much like Elizabeth did with me.”

As head physician, Catherine had access to his personnel file and probably already knew they had that in common.

“I’d be a hypocrite to ask you to do something I’m not willing to do. So, I’m not asking you to follow my orders blindly. I’m asking you to trust my expertise in _military_ matters. Trust that I have what it takes to see the whole picture and choose the best course of action.”

She held his gaze for a moment before lowering her head.

“I do trust you, John. Can you say the same thing?”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you trust my medical expertise?”

There could only be one reason for that question, and he should have seen the parallel before she could use it against him. He cursed inwardly.

“I do.”

“Then why are you here when I specifically told you not to train for a week?”

“This is different.”

“How so?”

“I’m not endangering myself or the others by training my healthy arm!”

“How do you know that? A fall or an accidental blow to the shoulder could break the stitches and reopen the wound,” she said, her voice tight with tension. “And maybe it wouldn’t kill you, but it would still slow down the recovery.”

His jaw clicked shut. “Point taken.”

He could see some of the anger slipping away from her tight expression and reached out to touch her arm.

“Mind to accompany me to my quarters?” he asked in a misguided attempt to lighten the tension.

“What?”

The blood rushed back into her cheeks, and her blue eyes burned into his with an almost physical intensity. Her reaction was so unexpected, so similar to the tea incident, it sent a sharp pang of lust straight to his gut.

Shit. He thought he had mastered _that_ particular weakness. Blamed it on fever, lingering effects of the alien tea, anesthetic, or adrenaline.

But he was in control of himself now, and yet he felt the same reaction, the same pull.

Well, damn. Of all the women in Atlantis, he was attracted to Rodney’s girlfriend. She was so off-limits that wanting her couldn’t be more wrong. Even thinking about it felt wrong.

He ran a hand through his hair and took a step back as much to give her space as himself.

“I’m sorry, I just thought that you could, uh... You know, make sure that I take your advice and spend the rest of the night in my bed,” he dug himself in even deeper.

Her eyes narrowed to slits, and for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out if she wanted him or wanted to slap him. Or both. And, of course, that turned him on even more.

“Oh, that wasn’t… I didn’t mean…” he babbled. He felt like an awkward teenager and probably looked it.

John swallowed against his suddenly dry mouth.

The radio came alive, saving him the embarrassment.

“Dr. Spencer, your presence is needed on the second floor, west wing. I’ll have Zelenka waiting by the elevator. It’s Rodney...”

It was Elizabeth, and he could tell by the anxiety in her voice that she was more than a bit worried.

Heaving a sigh, Catherine reached down for her bag.

“It looks like I need to go now,” she said, carefully avoiding his gaze, and gestured toward the door.

John could only nod and step out of her way.

“I’m coming,” she answered the radio and promptly ran off in the wrong direction.

He caught up with her before she had gotten too far away and lost and wordlessly convinced her to let him escort her to the right place.a


	2. Chapter 2

They found Kusanagi waiting for them in the hallway, looking extremely nervous.

“What did he get himself into this time?” John asked directly, knowing Rodney all too well not to think he had gotten into whatever it was all by himself.

“Dr. McKay was experimenting with a device we had recently discovered in one of the unexplored parts of the City,” Kusanagi explained as they walked.

“Let me guess, he pushed some buttons randomly to see what it does,” John concluded, having a strong feeling of déjà vu.

Kusanagi looked like she needed all her will power not to give in and smack him upside the head. “How can you say that? Dr. McKay has run all the tests possible before turning on the device,” she protested.

“Did those tests tell him what it does?”

Kusanagi lowered her gaze. “I was the one instructed to push the buttons,” she explained. It was true, at first, but the device didn’t respond to her commands.

“Of course…” He didn’t quite believe Rodney would let anyone else take away from him the pleasure of pushing a virgin button. The man might have been afraid of many things, but he definitely couldn’t resist the temptation of seeing what a button did. “Have you sent for Zelenka?” John insisted.

“Are we going there already, or are we going to stand here all day discussing who was to blame for pushing a damn button?” Catherine finally snapped.

The elevator doors opened, and Zelenka came running toward them. “What did he do now?” he asked, obviously knowing Rodney too well to assume it was anything but his fault.

Surprisingly, Kusanagi didn’t try to excuse her boss before Zelenka. Rather, she went ahead and described in detail how the device had been turned on, which buttons had been pushed, in which order and by whom before asking for his advice on the matter. All the while, their pace had increased enough to reach the room within minutes. By the time they got there, she had managed somehow to brief Zelenka on all of those elements.

o0o0o

They rushed into the room on Zelenka’s heels. The physicist rushed to turn off the device, but to no avail.

Visible waves of energy were flowing out of it and somehow pooled around Rodney's unconscious body. Kneeled right next to McKay, Elizabeth was trying to bring him back to consciousness.

“Dr. Zelenka, Catherine, thank God you’re here!” Elizabeth’s eyes were full of worry. She turned to John and nodded in acknowledgement.

He nodded in response and returned his attention to Catherine as she crouched next to Rodney and checked his vitals.

“His pulse is strong and he’s breathing normally,” she said, raising her head. “He seems sound asleep, but I need to run a full scan to know for sure.”

John decided to take that as a good sign and let his concern fade for now. Not sure of how he could be of assistance, he stayed just inside the doorway and watched the waves of energy wash over them. They gave him a tingling feeling and he wondered if that was normal.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Dr. Zelenka pressing a funny-shaped button before the scientist collapsed on the floor unconscious.

What was it with scientists and buttons?

"Great, now we lost both of them!" John declared, not quite hiding the mix of irritation and concern in his voice.

Catherine shot him a reproachful look, but before she could open her mouth to comment, Rodney began to stir and opened his eyes with a groan.

"So typical of McKay," he remarked.

John exchanged a glance with Elizabeth. This was an odd development. Rodney had yet to refer to himself in the third person.

Next to the device, Dr. Zelenka too began to stir. Catherine left Rodney in Elizabeth’s care and moved by his side. She gave him a quick check before glancing at John.

“I can’t find anything wrong,” she said. “I need to take them to the Infirmary.”

The Czech opened his eyes, saw her, and smiled.

"When did you get here?"

John’s discomfort with the whole situation was growing by the second, and Dr. Zelenka’s unusual question wasn’t helping.

He opened his mouth to voice his confusion when Dr. Zelenka’s eyes caught of Elizabeth, still crouched by Rodney’s side, and widened in alarm.

"And how did _I_ get over there?" he asked with a note of incipient panic in his voice.

Something was _definitely_ wrong.

"Rodney, what were you doing before you blacked out?" John asked, without leaving his spot.

To his surprise, Dr. Zelenka answered for him. "I was trying to override the safety mechanism," he said.

They all looked from Zelenka to McKay and back again.

"It worked, didn't it?" Dr. Zelenka said, shaking his head in realization. "Zelenka?" he called to Rodney.

In turn, Rodney sat up and looked at the Czech. "Yes?"

"Great!" Zelenka said. "I'm you?"

McKay nodded.

As if reading his thoughts, Elizabeth asked, "What's going on here?"

"I'm stuck in Radek's body," said Dr. Zelenka, the panic in his voice unmistakable. It was definitely Rodney; John could recognize that high-pitched tone anywhere.

"We seem to have changed bodies, or consciousnesses, whatever. I'm Radek," Rodney's body explained, with a familiar Czech accent in his voice.

Great. Just when he thought he had seen it all.

"I'm stuck in Radek's body," Rodney repeated, staring at John with a dumbfounded look on his face. "I'm _stuck_ in Radek's body. I'm stuck in _Radek's_ body," he kept repeating, shuffling through emphasis, until he finally reached the one that sounded right. "I'm _stuck_ in **_Radek's_** body!"

"How is this possible?” Catherine muttered, helping him up.

John waved her question away. "That's nothing. He once had another person stuck in his head for days," he reminded them.

The memory only seemed to fuel Rodney’s increasing panic. He jumped to his feet, pushed Catherine aside, and turned quickly to the controls. The waves of energy began washing over them once more and John ran over to stop him before anything worse happened.

o0o0o

The darkness crept out of the corners of his mind and John could see himself next to Rodney, picking himself off of the floor with the help of the scientist. Elizabeth was next to him, but she seemed to have just recovered after a shock herself. Realization hit like a sledgehammer.

"Which one's in my body?" he asked, feeling eerily calm about it. He was pointing at his own body, hoping it would make things clearer.

"It's me, sir." Somehow, Kusanagi managed to make herself recognized without actually saying her name.

John rolled his eyes. It was strange to find yourself in another's body. The commands weren't quite right and he kept expecting to topple over as he stood up. He watched Elizabeth sitting there quietly and wondered if she had escaped unaffected. She looked a bit confused, but with what was going on, it was to be expected. At least, if she had been replaced by Rodney, it would have been easy to tell from all the fuss he/she would be making. Right now, it looked like Rodney was in Kusanagi's body.

"Elizabeth?" he called tentatively.

Elizabeth shook her head. "It's Radek."

"I'm here," Elizabeth said from Catherine's body.

Kusanagi's body was running around the controls, pressing buttons and muttering menacingly. It was pretty clear who was in there. "Rodney, are you sure you know what you're doing?" John asked.

"I simply need to recalibrate this so it will take all of us into account and I'll probably need to work in the order in which you walked in…" He turned to them and, stamping his feminine foot, commanded their attention. "What are you waiting for? I just said I need to know what order you walked in… in," the phrase seemed to get away from him.

It was painfully obvious that Kusanagi's voice wasn't really working for him – it just wasn't made to command attention.

John had easily recognized Catherine in Radek's body – she still needed to learn a lot of things about how weird things tended to get around here and be grateful the problem looked fixable. Sure, it seemed to increase in magnitude, dragging more and more people into this mess, but with all this body hopping going on, he felt confident they would eventually reach their original ones. Unless the two scientists in charge managed to get it all wrong somehow. Again.

"Look! Will you please align yourselves in the order you came into the room?" Kusanagi commanded in a very Rodney-like manner.

After five minutes of heated debate, they eventually decided the order their bodies had walked in was the one that counted. After another ten, they finally arranged themselves in the right order. Then, Kusanagi/Rodney pressed a couple more buttons and it all went black.

o0o0o

When he opened his eyes, the first thing Radek did was make sure he was in the right body. He was. The disappointed sigh he could hear from Kusanagi initially made him think Rodney was still stuck in there, but she seemed pretty much herself otherwise.

"Really now?!" Dr. Weir exclaimed. "At least now I won't have problems getting you to listen," she said in a very Rodney-like fashion.

Whoever was stuck in Rodney’s body gave her a warning look. "Rodney, the next time you touch that device will be with the precise intention to and result that you get us all back to our original selves." There was no need to add an 'or else' to make it sound more threatening.

"So, you two…" Radek said, pointing at Rodney and Dr. Weir with his arms crossed, "are each other. I'm me… I think… How about the rest of you?" he asked, hoping Rodney/Elizabeth would be the only mix-up he'd have to deal with.

Kusanagi raised a timid hand. "I think I'm in the right body."

"Well, good on you!" said Rodney from Dr. Weir's body, arms folded across her chest and an all-too-familiar annoyance on her face.

Dr. Weir studied their faces and frowned questioningly. "John?"

"Here," Dr. Spencer's body grumbled. "And you'd better find a way to solve this mess quickly, Rodney."

"What are you doing in my girlfriend's body?"

Radek’s brain knew the question came from Rodney, but being asked through Dr. Weir’s mouth, it sounded way more inuendoized than it should have.

"This may sound like a cliché, but it's exactly what it looks like," Sheppard replied with a smile that failed to hide his concern.

Dr. Weir stood up, clearing her throat to get their attention. "Rodney, Zelenka, how long do you need to fix this mess?" she asked.

"A few hours," Rodney hurried to assure her. It was unnerving how being stuck in another one’s body didn’t make him any less boastful.

"A week, maybe more," Radek shrugged, taking the more realistic approach. "We don't even know what we're dealing with here. Maybe if Rodney had looked for the instructions before poking at the buttons…"

"Instructions! Sure, it must have been that huge, invisible volume we tripped over on our way in! How are we supposed to know what a machine does without _poking at the buttons_?"

"Wasn't there a data base or something? You could have looked there first!" the Colonel suggested, his voice betraying his growing exasperation.

"Don't you think I would have if there were one to begin with?"

"Did you?" Sheppard insisted.

Rodney averted his gaze. "There probably wasn't one, anyway. Sometimes, it's best to take some shortcuts to-"

"So, you didn't even bother," Sheppard growled, standing and walking menacingly toward Rodney. With him currently inhabiting Dr. Spencer’s body, the effect wasn't quite as impressive as intended. To say at least.

Dr. Spencer rolled her eyes. "You'd better _not_ get me into a cat-fight, now."

Dr. Weir coughed pointedly, putting an end to their dispute. "John, we need to explain this to the base, quarantine this sector and let them come up with a solution," she said.

"And how do you propose we do this? We show up, tell everyone we don't feel quite… ourselves lately and… what? That's gonna go well!" Colonel Sheppard commented.

"What do you propose?"

"Besides, has anyone checked the calendar lately?" Radek felt compelled to point out.

"It's the 1st of April, why?" asked Rodney, the idea clicking in his mind a second later. "You've got to be kidding me!"

"Of course. With all the stuff going on around here, Freaky Friday had to happen just now!" Dr. Spencer rolled her eyes.

"In this case, Rodney will just have to announce the quarantine in my place and start working on a solution," Dr. Weir concluded.

"Couldn't we move the device to the lab? It would be easier to work on it there," Rodney suggested.

Radek just shook his head. "No, Dr. Weir’s right. We don't want to get the whole base mixed up in this. You've seen how the range of the device expands with every use. Imagine what it could do with that many people around.”

The mere contemplation of that possibility gave him a headache.

"You can bring whatever equipment you need from the labs, but don't turn the device on with anyone other than us around. It's confusing enough being you," Elisabeth agreed. "Come on, Rodney. We need to give them the big news."

Dr. Spencer, quiet until then, stopped them before they left. "We need to go to the Infirmary first to run some tests. I need to make sure there aren't any other physical consequences to this confusion."

"That's something I never imagined seeing myself say… Literally," Sheppard commented.

Radek couldn’t agree more.

o0o0o

"Don't you have anything better to do?" John asked.

Catherine, who had been following him around for a couple of hours now, offered him a tight smile.

"Not in this body, no. And I'll be damned if I leave you alone with mine!" she replied.

She wasn't sure _what_ exactly could happen if she left him alone, but she didn't want to imagine it. Fortunately, there weren't any physical side effects, yet. Psychically, it was awkward enough having to chase herself down the corridors and watch herself eat. There wasn't long until other physiological needs kicked in and she wondered how she was going to handle _that._ So far, she had managed not to eat or drink anything in the hope that Rodney would find a solution before she had to, but John hadn't been so cautious and pretty soon he would have to answer the call of nature.

"Are you sure it's a good idea to have that beer?" she asked, sitting across the table from him.

"Don't worry, I won't ruin your reputation. Actually, I think something stronger would be a better idea, but then you'd really be compromised."

She hadn't been exactly thinking of her no-drinking reputation, but she was grateful he wasn't drunk in her body yet. She knew first-hand how low her alcohol tolerance was. The beer was probably enough, anyway.

"Give that!" she said, snatching the bottle out of his hand and chugging half of it.

She chocked and put the beer down in disgust. "How the hell can you drink something like this?"

"I don't drink it _like that_, that's the whole point. You only chug it like that if you're a college frat boy," he pointed out.

"Ha. Ha. Ha." She scrunched up her nose in disgust. "I was talking about the taste."

"I'm surprised you felt it at all. It's Athosian beer – it has no taste. No idea how they brew it, but it's all the alcohol without the taste."

"You've got to be kidding."

"Come on. If you really want to see the difference, I still have some real, Earth beer in my room," John offered, standing up.

"So, you want to get me drunk in your room?" Catherine asked almost flirtingly before she caught herself and snapped her mouth closed. What in the world had gotten into her to make her say what she just said?

"No, I want to get _myself_ drunk in _my_ room. You would be a byproduct. Besides, it's the only way to get through this day with my sanity intact and I suggest you do the same."

"If you think, for one second, that I'll let you in possession of _my_ body drunk, you've got another thing coming!" she grumbled, standing up as well. It was ridiculous, but she didn't feel the least bit tipsy, even after chugging half a beer.

"I take it you'll join me, then?" John asked, attempting a charming smile. At least that’s what she thought he tried, because it came out so darn cute it made her cringe in embarrassment.

o0o0o

"Any progress yet?" Elizabeth asked, briskly entering the room with a steamy mug in her hand.

She had been busy working on overdue reports in her room, keeping out of sight, since she – well, Rodney – announced the quarantine of a quarter of the city. She was grateful no one had bothered yet to check up on her and run into Rodney. She was even more grateful no one poked around in the out-of-bounds area, to run into her posing as chief scientist.

"Even genius needs time to unfold," replied Rodney, without looking away from the controls.

"He means we have no idea how this works," Dr. Zelenka offered.

"Yet," Rodney corrected him. "It can't take much longer before-"

"Before you fall asleep from exhaustion," Dr. Zelenka interrupted him. "It doesn't matter how optimistic you are about it. We've been over all the possibilities, all the options. The only certainty is that we have no idea how to operate this. We don't even know if this was the initial function of the device. For all we know, we've managed to turn the toaster into a mind-altering device and we can't even be sure how we did that. OK, _Rodney_ did that-"

"You _had _to bring that up!" Rodney interrupted. "I probably would have had this fixed by now without your constant interruptions!"

"Tî arogantni zmrde!" Zelenka swore under his breath, throwing his tablet on the console. "That's it! If you want to get back in your body, you can do it yourself!" he said, walking out in a chorus of Czech mumblings which sounded suspiciously like swearing and were most definitely directed at his stubborn, Canadian colleague.

"Finally!" Rodney exclaimed with relief. "I can finally work on this properly!"

Elizabeth folded her arms across her chest, a gesture that looked most indignant in her current body. "I hope you know what you're doing, Rodney."

"Relax," he assured her. "Everything's under control."

Somehow, she doubted it.

o0o0o

Normally, John would have found it highly disturbing to see himself in front of him. This time, there was a perfectly good explanation for it. What was particularly alarming was that there were two of himself standing before him. What was worse, they were swaying… or maybe he was. Honestly! Two beers shouldn't have this effect on him! Especially when he wasn't even finished with the second!

"Do you really have zero alcohol tolerance?" he asked Catherine, who seemed to have discovered her fondness for booze, liquor, moonshine, whatever form of alcohol she could get her hands on. Did he really have such a high tolerance himself? She was on her second glass of whiskey, after three beers and two cups of whatever it was Teyla got him for his birthday.

"For now, it looks like _you_ have zero tolerance," Catherine answered, a bit too cheerfully.

John put the beer down and stood up.

"Where are you going?" she asked, a note of panic creeping into her voice.

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but I need to go to the Little Girls' room," he said, swaying gently with the room.

"No, you're not!"

"I doubt they'll have me in the Little Boys' room," he joked, giggling at the silliness of his little joke.

Catherine wasn't smiling. He hoped she wasn’t actually debating going with him.

"It just _had_ to be you! Why couldn't I change bodies with Elizabeth? Or, at least, Rodney? Or Radek? Even _he_ would have been better!" she blurted.

"You should be grateful," he said with a smirk, "I might even know how to use this," he said, gesturing to his current body.

She rolled her eyes in a _very_ unladylike fashion. "That's _exactly_ what I meant! I had to end up switching bodies with the biggest pervert of the bunch!"

"Since when?" he protested indignant. He was almost certain there were more conclusive cases in the IT department.

"You have an entire Harem!"

John stared at her blankly. "A what?"

"A Harem, a fan club, whatever they want to call themselves. Do you need to take out a dictionary?" she asked sweetly, using his own charming smile against him.

He stared at her in utter confusion. "You know, I think you might have caught up with me after that second Jack," he joked, heading for the door. "By the way, I have no clue what you're on about."

Before she could throw her glass at him – and he was sure she would have if he gave her the chance – the door closed behind him and he was left wondering how much he needed to know about this new body he found himself in.

o0o0o

Left on her own, Catherine began snooping around his much roomier room, in search of evidence to back up her earlier accusation. It helped keep her mind off of whatever he was doing or seeing in the bathroom.

She could feel Johnny Cash's accusing stare on her back as she dug through his drawers in search of forgotten bras or whatever it was a herd of admirers would leave behind. He was surprisingly tidy and that darn poster was beginning to get to her. Could he have been honest? If so, why was she rummaging through his stuff in the first place?

This was silly!

She was about to give up, when a picture stuffed into the last drawer caught her attention – it was a snapshot of him with his arms around a woman. He looked younger, maybe her age. She was certain she didn't know the woman, but before she could get a better look at the picture, she heard the door opening behind her and she shut the drawer with a quick movement, turning to face him as if nothing had happened – this was just between Johnny Cash and herself.

"I looked away," he deemed to inform her.

She gave him a quick glance. "And I believe you," she responded, a bit absent-mindedly. The picture had latched onto her thoughts and was working its way through the haze. It might have been a relative, sure, but something kept telling her there had to be more between them for John to keep a photo of her, and keep it out of sight at that.

If she wouldn’t have known her own face for... well, an entire lifetime, she would’ve missed the flicker of surprise in his eyes.

"Oh, you do?" he asked, feigning indifference.

“Sure. Why not?”

He shrugged awkwardly and sat back at the table.

“Well, you already told me I’m the biggest pervert, so...”

She grinned. “Yeah, that doesn’t mean I don’t trust your word. If you say you didn’t, you didn’t.”

“Glad to hear that,” he said, looking as if he had never expected to hear that from her. "Where were we?"

"We were going through your bottle of Jack Daniel's, I believe."

A stray thought blossomed into an idea in Catherine's head and she could almost feel her devil's horns growing. "How about a game to help it along?"

Poring himself a glass of whiskey, he raised an eyebrow. "What do you have in mind? Strip poker?"

"You'd wish. You'd probably let me win."

"No, not really. At the moment, you definitely have nothing I'd want to see. I think I'd kick your ass at it and enjoy the view in a mirror later." He was slurring his words a little as he spoke.

Looking at him in that state, Catherine was painfully reminded why she didn't normally drink – his neurons seemed to die with each passing second and each new glass. She was almost grateful to be stuck in a more resilient body and she hoped Rodney would take his time fixing the device 'til after the hangover had passed. She definitely didn't want to wake up the next day in a bruised and battered body, complete with a splitting headache and an elephant marching band parading through her skull.

She poured herself a new glass. "No, thanks. Poker's not really my thing. I was thinking of _Truth or Dare_."

John burst into giggles. "We're not in high school!"

"We're not even in our own bodies, but why should that be a problem?" she objected.

"OK, how do you propose we go about this?"

"We down a glass, first to make a face, loses," she explained.

He grinned. "You're on."

They both finished their drinks at once. Despite her newly acquired confidence, Catherine lost, betrayed by her lack of practice. Truth be told, she'd probably never get used to the taste.

"So, truth or dare?" he asked, smirking.

She didn't want to imagine what he might dare her to do, so she went with the safer choice, "Truth."

"How far did you get with Rodney?"

Catherine nearly chocked on her drink. "What sort of question is that?"

"A simple one. One you can only answer with the truth."

"Dare me!"

"Sure. I dare you to answer."

She watched the smug grin plastered on her own face and downed the last mouthful of whiskey. If this was how he wanted to play it, so be it.

"We went to the mainland," she answered.

o0o0o

It wasn't until 2am that Rodney remembered he hadn't eaten all day. His eyes hurt, his back was all in knots and his stomach was protesting most vehemently. What was worst – he hadn't gotten anywhere with the device. He found some instructions, but they were nothing better than riddles so he dropped the text off with Miranda for a translation and headed for the mess hall before he collapsed from starvation. He didn't even dare check his blood sugar.

He had already topped his plate and was wondering what desert to pick when he was struck by two thoughts. He had no idea what Elizabeth was allergic to and he was finally able to try the lemon pie. Completely oblivious to the time of night, he turned his radio on and called her. "Elizabeth, are you allergic to anything?"

His own voice was muffled and sleepy. "What?"

"Are you allergic to anything?"

"No, go away," she grumbled.

"Good," Rodney grinned, adding the lemon pie to his tray. "You didn't have any citrus today, have you?"

"No, Rodney. Can I go back to sleep, now?"

"Sleep? Sure… Wait! You're sleeping on a hard mattress, right?"

"Good night, Rodney!"

"Only, I don't want my back to be all twisty when I get back in my body."

There was no answer.

Shrugging, he sat down with his past-midnight snack, devouring it to the last morsel. The lemon pie awaited at the end as a special treat, one declined him for years.

o0o0o

Catherine awoke to a nightmarish headache and a stiff back. Without opening her eyes, she stretched and turned on her side – a less than successful move, as she instantly found herself crashing to the spinning floor with the chair on top. The brief expletive this incident elicited made her aware of another oddity. It hadn't come out in her voice.

"Fuck!"

She was looking for a logical explanation to the situation but all she found was herself, drooping out of the opposite chair, her head leaning against the seat and hands hanging from under the armrests. Logic flew out the window and was surprisingly replaced by a ridiculous relief at being the only one to see herself in such a state.

The thought that she looked strangely adorable crossed her mind. Like a kid who found her uncle's stash of moonshine and was now sleeping it off, the thought went on. She felt it odd at best – she never thought of herself as 'adorable' and she doubted the drunken factor added to her childish charm. It did, however, bypass her conscientious defenses and constrains, stripping her of any shred of authority. She doubted Elizabeth would look like that, regardless of circumstance. Even Miko commanded more respect than she did at the moment!

Chasing the thought away with some effort, she pushed herself up into a semi-sitting position, determined to put an end to the scene before she gave John diabetes. It made her all the more grateful she was the only witness to her own unintentional cuteness.

Looking for something to throw, she decided on the radio as the closest would-be missile and, with a mischievous smile, she threw it at herself. It didn't surprise her when it didn't hit the target. It connected, instead, with poor Johnny Cash, a couple of meters to the left.

"Sorry," she apologized. The idea of apologizing to a poster soon sent her into a fit of giggles that eventually succeeded where the radio failed – awaking the person across from her. Realizing John would awake to the sight of his own person laughing uncontrollably at him, her fit of laughter intensified. She had to still be drunk. Even that thought seemed incredibly amusing.

o0o0o

It was alarming to wake up with someone laughing at you. It was worse when that _someone_ was yourself. Confusion threatened to take over until one word made sense return to the world. "Rodney," he growled in a most unmanly voice.

"No," his body answered between giggles, "Catherine. Rodney's Elizabeth… I think."

The comforting embrace of alcohol called to him, promising everything would make sense after a glass or two, but he refused the offer. There were worse things that could happen and he wasn't curious to learn what.

"Can you make it stop spinning?" he heard Catherine ask, finally serious and lying on the floor, staring up.

Now that she mentioned it, it felt a bit like riding a carousel, everything spinning around him. "Which one? The ceiling or the floor? I can't do both."

"The ceiling. The floor is less alarming," she muttered, turning to look at him. "And would you put your hair up already? Actually, _my _hair."

He gave her an innocent look. "It's OK. Actually, I was curious what it would feel like to have long hair," he reassured her. There was that time in high school he had actually tried growing it out, but he soon discovered that he didn't have the follicles for it. Absently twirling a lock on his finger, he added "Though being a blonde is a bonus."

"Really?" she said coldly. "How about an extra bonus?" she offered, the sudden sing-song in her voice betraying her dark intentions.

He saw her take off her shoe. He knew what she was going to do with it, too. There just was this delay between his mind and body that prevented him to duck when she actually threw it at him.

She looked as surprised as he was when it actually hit home.

"A-au!" Rubbing his sore head, he looked mournfully at her. "That _hurt_!"

The pout came very naturally. It shocked him just how easy it was to turn his bottom lip down and make it quiver ever so slightly. It also seemed to work on her, though not the way he expected. She looked nearly terrified, hiding her eyes behind her palm.

"_Please_ don't do that!"

"What?" he asked innocently.

Running her hand through her hair in a very John manner, she rolled her eyes and finally set down some rules. "You don't pout, you don't whimper, and you most definitely don't make me look cute! If I catch you trying to be cute again, there's another shoe waiting."

"What's wrong with being cute?" he teased.

She drew a deep breath. "Nothing… when you're 10. I'm 26 and try to act like it."

"I still don't see your point," he shook his head, genuinely at a loss.

"You try running a department full of people twice your age and be cute at it, see how it works out for you."

At least this explained part of her behavior. It wasn't unexpected – prodigy or not, she just didn't have the look of a leader, so she was compensating the only way she could – but he was a bit surprised to hear her admit it. _In vino veritas_, he would have quoted, but the variety of bottles on the table attested to many more sources of truth.

“If there’s stuff you need to get out of your system, I hope you know I’m here for you,” he offered.

Catherine gave him a quizzical look.

“It’s nothing, really,” she said with a shrug. “Just the story of my life. Got my bachelor’s degree before I was old enough to vote. Did my first surgery at 16. Had my own lab at 18. Wherever I went, I was treated with mistrust and suspicion. I was too mature for children my own age and too young for everyone else.” She gave him a sad smile. “Most people think that being a prodigy – or having a prodigy child – is awesome. For me, it was just lonely. It set me apart, made me feel like I don’t belong anywhere.”

“You belong here,” he assured her.

“I was never supposed to work in another galaxy, let alone run an entire department. All the people I work with are smart, proud, and, of course, older. Having them listen to each other is a challenge. Having them listen to _me_ is nothing short of a miracle. Add my baby face to the mix and you’ll see why ‘cute’ is not the image I’d like to convey.”

He pondered her words for a moment.

"Hadn’t thought about it, but I can see it,” he admitted. “The truth is, you’ve earned our respect. I’m sure you could earn theirs without the act.”

“Thank you, but doctors are a tough bunch to please, maybe the toughest. They are proud creatures who don't take kindly to attempts to tame them or, God forbid, prove them wrong. Posing as Hannah Montana won't win me any points.”

He didn’t fully agree, but there was already too much truth and intimacy between them for him to push her further. For the moment, anyway.

“I understand,” he said, unassuming. “Don’t worry. Your rep is safe with me.”

“Thank you, John,” she replied with a glint of good humor in her eyes. Well, his, actually, but the devil is in the details.

His body hurt all over but he couldn't spend all morning on the floor, no matter how tempting it sounded. Besides, someone had to check on Rodney if they ever wanted to become themselves again. It took considerable effort to push himself up and it felt like gravity had turned against him, but he was eventually upright and door-wise and he dubbed it a resounding success in his mind. With a vow not to touch alcohol again while in this body, he turned to the still horizontal Catherine. "I'm off. If you need clothes, the closet's over there," he pointed.

"John," she whimpered, bolting upright with a terrified look on her face.

Worried, he immediately knelt next to her, wondering if it was a consequence of the swap. "Yes?"

"I…" she said gravely, grabbing hold of his hand. "I need to use your bathroom."

"…oh…" he said, unimpressed by the situation. Another look at her distress made him change the tone of his response "Oh!"

"Yes. What should I do?"

"…use the bathroom…" He didn't like it any more than she did and he was trying not to think too much about it, but that _was_ the only solution.

"So… you're fine with it?" she asked sheepishly.

He waved her off. "You're a doctor. It shouldn't be something you haven't seen before."

The comment made her blush, an action he had hoped his body had gotten over with puberty. It didn't, however, seem to encourage her to get up.

"Are you waiting for assistance? Instructions? Haven't you seen _me_ naked before? You usually strip us before getting us on the operating table."

"It's the nurses that get to see everything, I just do the real work!" she grumbled.

Beat-red, she pushed him aside and stood on her wobbly feet. Wincing from the pain in the knee – or maybe the shoulder - she made her way to the bathroom without comment, throwing him one last grudging look before going through the door.

It was the moment to call Rodney, fingers crossed for good news.


	3. Chapter 3

Waking up was generally a slow, painful experience for Rodney. It wasn't unheard of for him to have to detach his face from the embrace of his keyboard. He would never forget the time he had fallen asleep on his tablet and accidentally reprogrammed the safety protocol – it took him five hours to get the doors to open again. It was unheard of, however, to wake up next to a half-eaten slice of lemon pie. There was an initial moment of panic, his body tensing up in expectation of anaphylactic shock. He wasn't disappointed when it didn't happen, but he was hit by flashbacks of the previous day. Of course he was feeling fine.

He probably should be feeling a little guilty for Elizabeth, but it wasn't really  _ his  _ fault she had to wake up with all his aches and pains. It wasn't his fault  _ he _ usually woke up with them.

The feeling of guilt, negligible as it already was, made a swift exit, aware of its presence going unnoticed.

The sweet sound of Catherine's voice pried him out of his reverie and plunged him into the cold water of full wakefulness, remembering he was talking to John. He wasn't entirely sure of what he was saying – something about Catherine, bathrooms, last night…

"You do realize I've been up all night working, right?" Rodney whined, shaking off any unwanted image John's list of nonsense might stir up.

"That's what I wanted to ask about. Any good news?"

"Yes, I was able to eat half a lemon pie," he said cheerily, wishing he could see the look on his friend's face. Teasing John in the morning was almost as good as coffee.

"Rodney!" John warned, sounding like a pouting teenager rather than his normal commanding self.

The scientist tried hard not to burst out laughing, though the thought of Catherine talking to him in that tone made him feel a bit dirty under the circumstances.

"Look, I've been working all night! If I had anything, I'd tell you. As it is, you'll have to wait until I get another look at the device and run some more calculations."

"Can't you get Zelenka to help?"

Rodney rolled his eyes. "Do you  _ really _ think he can fix something I can't?"

"Then prove me wrong," John said too amiably, before signing out.

Rodney was left mumbling to the silent radio. "Fix this! Get that done! Can't you do it faster? Before we die a horrible death! Jeez, do they really think the time to solve a problem is inversely proportionate to its complexity? No, they think that all the incentive I need is the threat of Zelenka's collaboration! You know what?" he asked, pointing an accusing finger to the poor radio, "I don't need his help. You know why? We're probably screwed. If they think I need help, the shit has long hit the fan. We'll probably end up switching everyone around! That'll be fun."

Putting the radio away, he set back to work, already forgetting he had barely woken up. It was a long five minutes spent aimlessly tapping on keys and scrolling before he realized what was wrong – he couldn't make sense of his own notes. He remembered taking every note and making all the calculations, but he couldn't make heads or tails of them.

o0o0o

Elizabeth had been up for hours – she had awakened to the sound of snoring (her own, to be precise) after a night spent struggling to find a comfortable position on the hard mattress. She was beginning to think Rodney's famous backaches were self-inflicted or that he was probably masochistic. It was more comfortable to sleep on a slab of rock. Somehow, it wasn't a great leap of imagination from this to the complications being stuck in Rodney's body would bring to the organization of the base.

What would Simon say if he saw her like this? She hadn't thought of him in months, not since he had told her he was seeing someone. He was entitled to, after all, he hadn't seen her in years, and he wasn't even sure if she was alive or not, but it didn't mean it was easier on her.

As always when her thoughts began to wander towards dangerous grounds, she pushed them aside, filing them away for when she could afford it, and turned on her laptop.

It greeted her with a blue screen and a familiar error message. She had been meaning to get it fixed for days, but never really got around to it. Looking at the error message, she suddenly realized it wasn't as difficult to fix as she had previously thought. Before she could even consider asking someone else for help, she found herself typing away. She had no idea what exactly she was doing, but it seemed to be working. Within minutes, her laptop was already up and running.

o0o0o

Catherine was taking an awfully long time in the bathroom, to the point that he was about to go in after her – he didn't dare think about what she might be doing in there by herself. The sound of the shower made him stop at the door. He didn't want to embarrass her more than she already was, so he settled on knocking and speaking through the door.

"Take your time. I'm going to change as well – it wouldn't do to show up in this body wearing yesterday's clothes." He waited a moment for a reply and, when it didn't come, left the room in silence.

o0o0o

Her room was always a surprise – tiny and extremely well kept, everything neatly ordered and in its own place. However, there were no personal touches to it, as if she didn't expect to spend too much time in that room. Her closet was equally well ordered and the choice of clothing was small, even by male standards. There was one lonely dress among her somber uniforms, quite somber itself, and he wondered if she planned on wearing it on her dates with Rodney. Though he was curious to know what she would look like in a dress, he didn't have the nerve to try it on himself. Luckily, her wardrobe was neutral enough not to make him uncomfortable. It would have been awkward if he had to wear a skirt – how was he even supposed to sit in one?

He probably should follow her example and shower, but the thought of seeing her naked…

The cliché demanded that, if a guy ever gets turned into a woman, he will immediately start fondling himself, wondering how everything works and trying it out while he could. John, however, was aware of the risks this brought on – Catherine would probably exert her revenge on him in a most painful way the next time he needed a shot of any kind or whenever his job would leave him at her mercy. And even if she wouldn’t, the mere thought of taking advantage of the situation made him feel dirty.

He decided against the shower for now. Hopefully, Rodney would have them back before it became a necessity. Even so, there were things he couldn't avoid. 

Blushing slightly, he started rummaging through her underwear drawer which, thankfully, showed the same lack of interest for anything that might be considered sexy. He undressed quickly, trying to look down as little as possible while doing so, and cursed every god he could remember for not giving men the knowledge to fasten a bra (they barely endowed a few lucky bastards with the skill to undo it). 

Despite his best efforts, he couldn't help a quick glance as his hands brushed over her breasts. They were full and larger than they appeared under her medical uniform. It was a bit worrying that this last observation didn't stir in him any of the usual feelings. Trying not to pay too much attention to that, he finished dressing in a hurry.

Looking at himself in the mirror, he couldn't help noticing that she was quite cute. Petite, true, but the deep blue eyes, dimpled cheeks and innocent air only needed the right attitude to go with them to make her a very attractive woman. He would go so far as to call her beautiful, but never to her face. Besides, she always did her best to hide these traits. It was a miracle she hadn't resorted to wear thick glasses and braces to make the unattractive package complete. 

Pulling back his hair, he wondered if it would really be so bad if Catherine loosened up just a tiny little bit every now and then. With a mischievous gleam in his eyes, he took off the elastic holding back the somber ponytail, letting the dark blond strands frame her face. He didn't go as far as to put on makeup, mostly because he didn't know how, but partly because he wanted to live long enough to get his body back.

Just thinking of Catherine's reaction when she'd see him like this made the effort worth it.

o0o0o

Catherine had taken as long as she could before getting into the shower. She didn’t feel ready to fully see herself like this. Having to relive herself had been bad enough – talk about alien equipment! At least she was better at handling this without a manual than Rodney was with the Ancient tech. 

Still, seeing all of herself was intimidating. 

Why couldn’t the device switch her with Elizabeth? Or Miko? It would have been so much less awkward. At least she knew how to be a woman. She still felt like a woman, despite the extra equipment and the strange face looking back at her in the mirror.

She wondered if this was how Sasha used to feel, looking at herself in a mirror and seeing someone she was not. They hadn’t talked about it at the time - she had never complained about her dysphoria or much else - but that was mostly the perpetual cycle of wrong circumstances. It couldn’t have been easy for her. 

Catherine took a deep breath and shrugged out her clothes. She could do this. Sasha spent almost three decades in the wrong body; she could handle a couple of days. 

She stepped into the shower and let the water pelt her skin. From there, the motions were familiar, even if the body wasn’t – apply soap, scrub, and let the water rinse it away. At least she didn’t have to worry about drying all that hair afterwards. 

By the time she was toweling herself dry, she felt a bit more comfortable in her skin. His skin, but that just sounded like the premise of a bad horror flick. Eventually, her curiosity took over and she had to take a better look at herself. It was  _ medical _ curiosity – she just wanted to make sure the body she was currently inhabiting was clinically healthy and everything was in its place – and it was.  _ It  _ was very much in its place, she thought with a silly grin on her face. She immediately scolded her subconscious for coming up with such a lame joke and, more severely, for inuendoizing her predicament. Still, she had to hand it to him (and groan at the pun) – at least by her standards, he was perfect. Not that she would ever admit it to his face. She shuddered at the thought.

The shoulder hurt much less than she anticipated. At least she could be sure he hadn’t been downplaying his pain the day before and his recovery was quick and uneventful, aside from the obvious detour. 

Cheerfully discarding the towel she had wrapped herself in, she swiftly donned a pair of boxers and changed into one of his uniforms. Thankfully, she didn't have to put too much effort into her appearance – God forbid she ruined his reputation by making him look less ruffled than usual.

A quick look in the mirror told her she was presentable enough to keep the interest of his fangirls alive, and she headed to the mess hall for breakfast.

o0o0o

John had given far more time to combing his hair than usual, but he was quite proud with the result. He had made Catherine look like an actual human being, rather than the block of ice she tried to pass herself for and he burned with curiosity to see her face when she met her new self. It was his little payback for the shower thing.

The promise he’d made crossed his mind, but he quickly dismissed it. Combing her hair and letting it loose could hardly endanger her reputation. And ‘cute’ wasn’t the word that came to mind when looking at the results. Not by a long shot.

With that thought in mind, he made his way across the small room, stumbling over the coffee table/desk in the process. Waiting for the pain to ease out of his toe and holding back a string of curses that would have amused him to hear Catherine utter, he noticed the screen of her laptop lighting up. He was going to turn it off – no use keeping the thing running – when his attention was drawn to his own name showing up multiple times on the screen. Curious, he sat down to decipher the mystery and read on.

_ Col. Sheppard dropped his P-90 and hurried to Dr. Spencer's side, worried he had been too late this time. She wasn't moving and her right hand was still clutching the damned penknife. How could anyone be so stupid as to go on a rescue mission with nothing but that puny thing? And how on earth did she get the blasted thing back? _

" _ Hang on!" he pleaded, gathering her up in his arms. "You can't die on me now!" His voice was cracking and he held her tighter to him as if he could stand between her and Death. He was a fool, he knew it, but had he reached her moments sooner, she wouldn't have been in this state. He couldn't have expected  _ her _ of all people to do something as reckless as come to his rescue.  _

"What?" He read the fragment again and stared at the screen dumbly. It was one of the fics everyone seemed to be going on about, there was no doubt about that, but who would start writing about him and Catherine without her finding out and demanding satisfaction?

Come to think of it, Catherine did know about it - she was reading it!

Come to think of it, this was something only  _ she _ knew about – unless there were others who had faced the uselessness of her penknife. That thing seemed to be springing up everywhere these days. Still, there were only two people who knew just how troublesome it was.  _ He _ definitely didn't write it and Catherine… it was highly improbable, but the evidence pointed to her.

A strange curiosity pushed him to scroll up and check – the user ID matched that of the author:  _ Sheppard's Girl _ . It left him stunned. He felt like he had been nosing through her diary. As in a trance, he scrolled back to where he had found the story, intending to leave the laptop the way he had found it, but the same curiosity made him scroll further down and check if she got better by the end. It would have been all shades of awkward to find she had killed herself in story. 

Apparently, even Catherine believed in the power of  _ true love _ and John eventually left the room with a silly grin plastered to his face.

The need for coffee overruled the need to check on Catherine, so he headed straight for the mess hall. His head still hurt after last night, so he decided to go by the Infirmary later for an aspirin.

He wasn't too surprised when he found everyone already seated in the mess hall. Ronon and Teyla were sitting across from Rodney and Elizabeth, watching in awe as Elizabeth devoured a double breakfast with half a lemon pie on the side, and a large glass of lemonade, while Rodney just stood there, looking dejectedly at the food in front of him, without even complaining  _ once _ about anything. They were keeping a wary eye on John, who was quietly playing with his food, absently drawing with his fork in the plate.

He stood in the doorway for a second, taking in the strange sight. To Ronon and Teyla, still unaware of yesterday's accident, it must have been a stranger sight indeed. Clearly enjoying this more than he probably should have, John walked over to their table with a wide smile that brought out his dimples.

The look Ronon gave him – a mix of admiration and wonder – made him a bit nervous. 

On the other hand, Catherine wasn't even looking at him, making the effort to dress up rather useless.

Sitting down at the table, he wondered how Ronon would react like if he realized he was ogling him, not Catherine.

With a quick, "Mornin' everyone," he began eating, ignoring their astonished looks.

"Good morning, Dr. Spencer," Teyla was the first to speak up. "It is nice to finally have you join us for breakfast."

"Huh?" John said confused.

Catherine, who had found the others simply sitting down at her table as if it were the most natural thing ever, knew what the Athosian was saying. Usually, she'd be looking for the most remote seat in the hall to eat by herself. This was too crowded for her taste. 

And what on earth did he do to her hair? She was grateful she wasn't the direct receiver of Ronon's stares or she might have gone into one of her near-panic attacks. Like this, she could console herself with John's uneasiness and leave her revenge for making her look like a doll for later.

"Good morning," Ronon finally managed to utter, trying, it seemed, to actually use his fork for once.

Catherine nearly choked, John actually doing so. "Mornin'?" he said shyly.

Rodney could no longer suppress his amusement and everyone turned, surprised to see Elizabeth giggle. "You should have seen that coming," she said breathlessly.

"Ahem," Rodney's voice caught their attention in the stunned silence. "We probably need to clear something up here." There was something in his voice that demanded their attention. "You should probably stop eating now. Especially you, Rodney!" he hissed, looking at Elizabeth. "I was on a diet."

o0o0o

By the time Elizabeth had finished explaining the situation, Ronon and Teyla seemed twice as confused as they had been at the beginning – Ronon in particular, who kept looking from Catherine to John and back again, still having a hard time accepting that he had been checking John out.

"Why haven't you told anyone about it yesterday?" Teyla asked with the voice of reason.

"We were hoping to have everything back to normal by today, and there was no need to cause more confusion than there already was between us," Elizabeth explained. "Not the best possible plan, I'll admit, but after the way things degenerated during the tea incident, we wanted to contain the problem as much as possible."

"That still doesn't explain why you dressed up," Ronon told John.

"It doesn't, does it?" Catherine intervened, raising an eyebrow.

John looked from one to the other and, before he could reply, his radio cut him off – Catherine was needed in the Infirmary.

"Well? Go," Catherine encouraged him, "I'll tag along in case it's something serious."

Elizabeth nodded and the two took their leave.

In the hallway, Catherine walked by his side in silence, not bringing up his little stunt, leaving John both relieved and worried. If there was one thing that story had taught him, it was that he should definitely watch out around her. A lot of small details were starting to add up about her – particularly the thing with the penknife and the Wraith. He made a mental note to take that thing away from her the next time they left on a mission, in case she got any other heroic ideas again.

Before they could get to the Infirmary, Lorne's voice called from Catherine's radio. "There's something you should probably see here, sir."

She gave John a questioning look, but quickly enough got a hold of herself. "Where are you, Major?"

"The Hangar Bay."

"I'm on my way," she told him and gave John a resigned look. "Duty calls," she told him. "Call me if there's something you can't handle and watch out for Dr. Jonas, he's quite a ladies' man."

The look she gave him frightened him more than the prospect of dealing with the apparently infamous Dr. Jonas, and he shivered as it dawned on him that she  _ would _ eventually have her payback.

"Shit!" he muttered under his breath and headed to the Infirmary on his own.

o0o0o

They hadn't talked until evening, each seeing to the other's business with what looked like little trouble on either side.

Surprisingly, John had quickly identified the stray bacteria that had shown up during a set of routine tests – their database was extremely well organized. The staff had been a bit tense to begin with, probably surprised to see Catherine looking less stuffy than she usually did, but they eventually came around and, all in all, it had been a nice working experience. Dr. Jonas didn't pose much trouble, probably because of his previous encounters with Catherine and the fear she wouldn't leave him unscarred if he tried anything.

When Catherine walked into the room – without knocking, he might add – he had finally gotten to page 30 of  _ War and Peace _ . She didn't look all too content, but then again, she wasn't used to military life and he could sympathize. She'd probably had a tough day among so many Marines. Feeling generous, he decided not to tease her about it and regretted his choice the moment she opened her mouth.

"I need a place to sleep," she began abruptly.

"Go to my room?" he suggested.

"And leave you alone with my body all night long? Think again."

“But I thought you trusted me!” he protested.

She just sat down, looking exhausted. Sighing, he set the book down and gave her an amused look. "What do you think I'd do with your body that I couldn't have done already?"

"You mean you're so pressed for ideas?" There was a distinctly grumpy undertone beneath her playful teasing.

John sighed. "Come here, then," he offered resigned, scooting over.

She gave him a weary look, studying him from head to toes with an eyebrow raised in suspicion. "Are you trying to hit on me?"

"You mean, am I trying to hit on myself? And you were accusing  _ me _ of being a pervert!" he chuckled.

"Now you're going to tell me you never... touched yourself?"

John nearly chocked laughing. "Do you really want an answer to that? I'd like to point out that I was  _ in _ that body to begin with."

She sat down next to him, pouting. "You mean your problem is with me being in this body?"

"You know what? I think  _ I'm _ the one who should be worried about your intentions. If I have to spend the night fighting off your advances to protect my maidenhood, I should probably get myself some coffee first so I can keep guard," he said half-jokingly. 

He soon tumbled back onto the bed under the weight of a pillow hitting his head. When he looked back up at Catherine, her blue eyes held a glint of challenge that matched her mischievous smile.

"This will  _ not _ go unpunished!" he proclaimed, and threw the pillow back at her with military precision.

o0o0o

As it happened, Stephanie was just wondering past Catherine's room when she heard a familiar voice – a male voice, to be more precise – coming from within. She stopped in her tracks with a smug expression on her face. Maybe Sheppard's Girl was on to something, after all.

Her finely tuned ear could make out both John and Dr. Spencer's voices and she was inclined to give credit to the person that told her she'd seen Dr. Spencer leaving John's room in the morning, probably after spending the night there. It certainly explained her better humor that morning and the relaxed attitude she had encouraged among her staff.

Something was going on, and Stephanie took it upon herself to find out what.

o0o0o

_ She hadn't been to a church in ages, and she could hardly think what she was doing there now or why there were so many people around her. She was sure she didn't know any of them, but they all looked familiar for some reason.  _

_ There was Dave, his brother, and his dad was there as well, looking particularly proud. Still, he couldn't make sense of any of this until he recognized the woman dressed in white coming down the aisle toward him – Nancy, his future wife, was as radiant as ever. Looking at her beautiful face, he wondered if he had taken this step because he loved her or if his father's opinion had had anything to do in it. After all, the old man had wanted to see them married from the moment they had started dating.  _

_ As Nancy walked toward the altar, his sight began to blur and he shut his eyes against the dizzying sight. When he opened them again, he was in a home he vaguely recognized as his childhood home. He had joined the Air Force and had finally gotten the courage to tell his father about it. Considering the outcome, he wished he had never started the discussion. Furious, he stormed out of the house that had always felt suffocating, wishing Dave good luck in his new position as heir to the family business.  _

Catherine woke up startled, unsure of where she was. It took her a while before she recognized her tiny room in Atlantis, the bed feeling smaller than she remembered. She could make out a sleeping form beside her – her own body, clutching a pillow to her chest as troubled thoughts passed over her face.

The past couple of days washed over her with all their confusion and she realized it had been his memories she'd dreamt of. Worst yet, she had  _ been _ him.

Her heart began to race. How was that possible? The answer came with the realization that he could probably do the same. A quick glance at him confirmed her suspicions. His breathing was shallow and the look on his face reminded her of herself waking up in the middle of the night, crying. She wondered which of her memories were responsible for making him look so troubled. Strangely embarrassed, like a teenager caught writing in her diary, she shook him awake and was rewarded with a startled gasp.

He looked at her, bleary-eyed with sleep and confusion.

"What did you see?" she asked.

He shrugged, staring into her eyes and unable to find his voice.

"Tell me! It's important," she insisted.

"I'm not sure. A funeral?" He shook his head. "I think it was my Mother’s... but my Father was in uniform, but he was never in the military. I can’t remember much else – it started to fade as soon as you woke me up. You know how dreams are.”

"It wasn't a dream; it was a goddamn memory!” She swallowed around the growing tension in her chest and forced herself to continue. “John, we're starting to see each other's memories. Can you imagine where this could lead?"

"How do you know that's what's going on?"

"I saw  _ her _ ," she explained.

"What  _ her _ ?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Nancy... the woman in the picture... your wife... I was at the wedding..."

"You were..."

Catherine nodded and hugged her knees to her chest. This was the absolute worst time for Murphy's Law to kick in.

o0o0o

John ran a hand through his hair, annoyed at how long it was. He wondered what he could do to soothe her.

"Come on, my wedding wasn't so traumatizing," he joked. "You should have seen the divorce!" 

He placed a comforting hand on her shoulder and was rewarded with a half-smile. 

"Rodney must have figured it out by now, anyway, and you'll soon be rid of my disturbing life," he grinned. "And speaking of disturbing,” he continued, “how far did you get with Rodney?"

She rolled her eyes. "Do you really think this is the right moment to bring something like this up?"

"What? I don't want to find myself remembering your steamy nights of passion!" he defended himself. Curiously enough, he sounded downright terrified at the perspective.

"We'd be even, then," she assured him, letting his imagination fill in the blanks. She just  _ had _ to wonder who he was filling those blanks with.

John had a moment of doubt before grabbing his radio and calling Rodney. "Rodney, we have a problem."

"No shit, Sherlock. How did you figure it out?" Rodney snapped at him. "I've been staring at these controls for half an hour and I have no clue how they work, while Elizabeth has been buzzing around all night, tweaking and setting parameters I can't remember ever knowing about! This is freaky!" John could hear him mutter something, probably to Elizabeth, before continuing, "This is what I call a problem. What's yours?"

"Your love life," John said flatly, looking straight at Catherine who ignored him.

Before Rodney could say anything else, Elizabeth grabbed his radio and cut in. "If you think you've got problems, I dreamt I was being chased by a giant, killer lemon from hell. It had fangs! A lemon with fangs! And I'm starting to sound like Rodney!"

Rodney managed to get the radio back and complained, "Now you know what I go through on a nightly basis."'

"I get it, we're getting messed up, but are you any closer to a solution?" John insisted.

Elizabeth cut in again. "It gets worse. I talked to Dr. Heightmeyer about this and she said it might become permanent. The longer we spend in each other's body, the more attached we get to it. We gain access to the other's memories, feelings, and knowledge, while we start losing our own. Eventually, we wouldn't be ourselves anymore, but enough of the host would be lost as well."

John could hear what might be mistaken for a whimper coming from Catherine, but she seemed enough in control of herself when he turned to look at her.

"Did you talk to Zelenka about this?" John asked, putting his last hopes in the Czech.

"That's the worst part," Rodney mumbled. "He said he's been working on it all along. The nerve!"

"Look," Catherine finally joined in the discussion. "If he's working on this as well, we might just get back to our old selves today. Now, I suggest we go to the Infirmary and run some scans to make sure the  _ physical _ part of our brains is working properly."

There was a long silence, punctuated by static.

"What are you doing with John at this hour?" Rodney eventually asked.

"Don't get any funny ideas. I’m not that narcissistic!" she growled before grabbing John and pushing him toward the door.

o0o0o

On their way to the Infirmary, two marines stopped in their tracks to give John’s body a proper salute. He seemed almost tempted to answer to it – which Catherine did promptly, before he gave anything away. 

In the Infirmary, it had been Catherine's turn for a shock – her nurses and fellow doctors were fussing around John, cheerful and friendly and with offers of coffee. Weren't  _ they _ supposed to be the ones with the switched personalities? Thankfully, she was still enough of herself to help John make out the results of their EEGs. Everything looked alright on the physical side, but she couldn't shake the worry that something might go wrong before they could get back.

She was about to suggest they stay under medical surveillance – something a certain blonde nurse seemed to be eagerly awaiting – when Ronon showed up. Catherine hoped he was bringing news from Rodney, because she couldn't stand another minute in a body that instinctively focused on Stephanie's curves. With great effort, she took her eyes out of the nurse's cleavage, hoping no one noticed her fluster.

"You should take your radio with you," Ronon was saying and she could see John behind him chuckling. "Elizabeth sent me after the two of you when they couldn't reach you by radio. It looks like Zelenka made a breakthrough."

"Finally!" John said, earning a confused look from Stephanie. "What are we waiting for?" he asked when Catherine didn't show signs that she'd heard the news.

She was staring straight at Ronon, a grin spreading across her face. "There's something I need to do first," she said, walking toward the tall warrior. 

There was a mischievous gleam in her eyes as she reached up and circled her arms around his neck.

o0o0o

Wide-eyed, Stephanie watched on enraptured as John stood on his toes and pressed his lips to Ronon's, stunning the warrior into silence with the unexpected turn of events. The kiss was short, but full of passion, sending shivers down both the men's bodies, as intense as the ones she was feeling just by watching them.

By the shock on her boss’s face, Stephanie could tell that she wasn't used to such public displays of affection. Or maybe she was upset at John for pulling something like this on her after their passionate night together. The wheels in Stephanie's mind were turning, absorbing every detail to incorporate it later in her stories.

When John pulled away, he gave a quick look to Catherine, then returned to Ronon. "Now, we're even," he said grinning and walked out of the Infirmary.

Stephanie was frantically trying to figure out the many branches of this polyamorous relationship.

o0o0o

All the way across the city, neither John, nor Ronon could shake the feeling that Catherine, walking ahead of them, was sniggering at their expense. Not only that, but they were incapable of looking each other in the eye, too shocked by the...  _ incident _ . They weren't going to call it a kiss – that was an unspoken agreement. They didn't even want to think back on it. They could only be grateful the blonde nurse had been the only witness.

When they finally reached the doors of the laboratory, Ronon had gathered enough of his wits to confront the evil woman.

"Even for what?" he asked, grabbing her hand and turning her to face them.

"Well, you were all too happy to be checking me out this morning," she said with a smile. "I thought you'd like to get further." She walked toward John, picking up and twirling one of his curls on her finger. "By the way, I love your curls this morning. What did I say about being cute?"

John batted his eyelashes and looked her in the eyes. "That it's natural for you?"

Catherine groaned and walked into the room ahead of them. The two men were left swallowing the hard lumps in their throats. They would demand payback, but they feared what other devious plans to get back at them she might devise. After all, there was still untested technology in Atlantis and she was friends with Rodney.

o0o0o

Elizabeth, finally back in her own body, stared gleefully at Rodney. 

"It worked!" 

In her excitement to be back, she nearly hugged him but she was cut off by Zelenka who had just walked in.

"So?" he asked.

"Great job!" Elizabeth congratulated him, still high with excitement. Hopefully, she hadn't spent enough time in Rodney's body to be plagued by demonic lemons for the rest of her life.

"Yeah," muttered Rodney. "Great job finding the instructions. Like I never would have thought of that." His voice was dripping with sarcasm and he found himself on the receiving end of a surprisingly strong slap on the back of his head delivered by Elizabeth, who seemed to have retained some of his short temper.

"You didn't," she reminded him.

If Zelenka was shocked to see them behave like that, he didn't let on, instead going over to the device and preparing it for the next transfer session.

Catherine arrived just in time to see Elizabeth and Rodney still out of character enough to be disturbing, grinning like mad. 

"Did it work?" she asked worriedly.

"Don't worry," Elizabeth assured her. "I won't be looking at another lemon any time soon, but I'm back to myself and, hopefully, Rodney's influence will wear off in a couple more days."

Rodney looked hurt by her observation, but decided not to comment.

Catherine watched them a little longer before turning to Zelenka. "What do we need to do?"

The scientist flicked on one more switch. 

"You turn it on and wait, that's it. I've programmed everything – I got Miranda to translate the instructions." He stopped to let Rodney mutter in the background something about instructions. "You need to be alone in the room. I didn't figure out how to work it for multiple subjects just yet, but it should be safe with just two consciousnesses. From what I've read, it was used in interrogations, with one person going into the mind of another to gather all possible information. This means that there was probably some sort of shielding to keep the transfer one way, but I didn't get the chance to work that out yet. We just need to wait for Col. Sheppard to turn up and I'll leave the two of you alone."

"He'll be here in a moment," she assured him and, indeed, John walked in seconds after.

"You need to switch this on," Zelenka instructed, ushering everyone else out of the room. They needed to get to a safe distance before the device was switched on to prevent accidents.

Alone with the device, Catherine turned to John with a smile. "Any last thoughts?"

"I was beginning to like this body," he grinned, pushing the switch.


End file.
